


Best Worst Intentions

by A_CloseSecond (JamieOver_JamieGone)



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Angst, BAMF May Parker (Spider-Man), Canon-Typical Violence, Eddie Brock Trying To Hold On With Both Hands, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Possessive Venom Symbiote (Marvel), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Stark Industries, Tony Stark is a Well-meaning Villain, Tony Stark vs Peter Parker, Venom meets Spider-Man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieOver_JamieGone/pseuds/A_CloseSecond
Summary: News of Anne's wedding has a heartbroken Eddie seeking some distance in New York. All is going well until Tony Stark seeks him out, wanting to know exactly what happened between him and Carlton Drake.Meanwhile, 16-year-old Peter Parker continues to juggle schoolwork and crime-fighting, all while chasing down New York's newest monster: A gooey head-eating creature who calls himself "Venom".





	1. A Change of Scenery

"Eh. Not bad. I could get used to this place."

**" _Very_ bad. It's cold here... and it smellsss." **

"Yeah, well okay. You-got me there."

**"We should go back. Not too late."**

"It _is_ too late. We've rented an apartment. Full-year lease."

Eddie gave the person in front of him a nod when they passed him the door. They purposely avoided looking him in the eyes. It could have been because he was talking to himself, but _nobody_ in New York looked anyone in the eyes whether they were talking to themselves or not. Honestly, it was becoming difficult to tell anymore if he was coming off as crazy, or if it was just that golden NYC charm he was getting from people.

Yep, New York was certainly its own type of place.

Venom was right about the weather. It was _cold_. Since arriving, he'd added at least six more sweatshirts and coats to his wardrobe. None of them were enough to stop Eddie from feeling the bite of REAL winter at his skin though and his _roommate_ noticed. Venom had felt him shiver before, but it had mostly been from anxiety and fear. This type of shivering couldn't be soothed, at least not by Venom. When Eddie was cold, he was _cold_ and there was nothing the symbiote could do about it. It was fine. It just took some getting used to, for both of them. New York had a lot of new opportunities, a lot of papers and magazines that had NO connection to the Life Foundation, and he was going to make it work.

The move would also give him some space from Anne...

She was getting married. Not to him-  No, of course not. She was getting married to Dan, her knight in shining armor, who had rescued her broken heart after Eddie's stupid mistakes. It was a good thing (he kept telling himself). He was happy for her (sort of), but it still hurt. She'd made it clear that Dan was _the one_ and Eddie would always be just her _friend_. The rejection tore him apart. He didn't have anyone else. He had Venom, but that was different. Anne had been everything to him, the last remaining piece of who he was before the Life Foundation incident. It hurt to see her living the life they'd always wanted with Dan. That said, he didn't at all regret Venom. The alien mess was a part of him now. If it took losing Anne for them to meet, Eddie would choose Venom every time.

 **"We would never regret us, Eddie."** That's right. Venom had given up a lot too- Betrayed his own kind to protect Earth, to protect _him_.

And so he got over it. Time had done the trick, soothed the burn, but then he received that wedding invitation in the mail... Two weeks after that, he was on a plane headed for New York.

"Number 63?"

A pimpled teenage clerk called his number from the deli counter. Eddie shuffled his way through the waiting group hovering near the Pick-Up. He took the paper bag from the kid's hand and mumbled "Thanks.", making his way back through the stoic faces of other shoppers.

" **CHOCOLATE."  
**

" _Ah_ Fuck!" Eddie jolted, earning a glare from a rather pudgy-looking old lady to his left. "Y-Yeah. Alright. I know. Jesus."

Venom was hungry, he could feel it. A dull ache shooting up through his own nerves like the starts of a stomach ache. He'd have to let Venom out tonight, let the symbiote feast on whatever criminal they caught acting up out on the streets. The thought made him shudder- a reaction that didn't go unnoticed by his alien parasite.

**"We are the _good_ guys, Eddie." **

And he knew they were, it's just that eating people wasn't something a guy simply _gets used to_. They were always running into trouble in this city. More people meant more situations and experiences. There were no text books on how to instill morals into your man-eating alien blob. It seemed like every time they'd go out on the hunt, there'd be another morality lesson for Venom and a heart-attack for Eddie. It was exhausting.

Buying the right food was one way to keep Venom's homicidal urges at bay, he'd learned. It took him a while to find the right place. Tater-tots, chocolate, and steak were on his list _every_ visit and not _every_ grocery store around him carried all three of those items. Chocolate was easy, but tater-tots and steak... well his symbiote friend was getting pickier and pickier with each passing brand change. He'd finally found a place he could stick with after a few failed tries, and a very unhappy Venom. The little privately owned grocery was perfect. It had a frozen meal section AND a deli. It almost worried Eddie a little. Venom was getting spoiled about what he ate. Ridiculous, especially since the thing would never bat an eye at eating a very greasy looking murderer.

 **"We deserve nice thingsss."** was the symbiote's answer to that mental train of thought. _We_ deserve meaning _Venom_ deserves nice things, of course.

**"You too, Eddie. _Us._ " **

Eddie rolled his eyes and did his best to wipe those thoughts from his mind. He wasn't going to start an argument in the middle of a small quiet grocery store. If they kicked him out for acting crazy, he'd have to find another place.

Ugh. What a headache _that_ would be.

"Ooookay. Last thing." Where had he gotten the chocolate last time? AH! Right, by the baked goods.

**"DONUTS."**

"No."

**"YES."**

"Next time."  Eddie winced as Venom howled out something unintelligible.

Yep. His parasite was definitely getting spoiled. How does one even begin to fix that? Maybe he should pick up a parenting book or something.

"Keep it up, big guy. We'll leave here empty handed." It was a silly sort of threat, but it seemed to do the trick. Eddie moseyed through the selection of chocolates in blissful silence after that, stepping over a "wet floor" sign and snatching a package of Hershey bars from the shelf. It was a rare _serene_ moment for the forty-year-old who stood bouncing on the balls of his feet, contemplating whether or not he should get two packages of chocolates or one, when a sudden shout and a flurry of movement at his back had him twisting around.

_"WhAHH!"_

His arms reacted before his mind caught up with what was happening. He reached out, wrapping his hands around the petite shoulders of a dark-haired women who was falling backwards. Eddie held his breath, feeling Venom bubble up in alarm as he instinctually braced the other human against his chest.

 _"Oof!"_  The woman's red nails scratched against his dark green sweatshirt, black kitten-heeled boots scrambling to find purchase on the slippery damp floor of the grocery. By the time her feet had stopped moving, her face was practically pressed into Eddie's shoulder. For a tense few seconds, he froze. There wasn't much he could do other than awkwardly hold onto her at that point.

Venom was still swirling about in a frenzy beneath his skin, probably trying to decide if the poor lady was a threat or not, but the nails against his shoulder and the gasping nervous laugh of the stranger's soft melodic voice was sending a new sort of feeling through Eddie's nerves, one that Venom must have felt too. A blush was already heating up his face by the time the woman had looked up at him.

 _"Ah! Sorry!"_ She squeaked and pressed her forehead back into his sweatshirt, muffling a few more embarrassed chuckles into his chest. Eddie's mouth open and closed like a fish. His experience with the average New Yorker had been stoic and cold up until this point. This woman's reaction was certainly a surprise... and not a completely unwelcome one.

"God- Shit." Her hand covered her mouth and then hopped up to run messily through her straightened hair. "That was embarrassing. Nice save! Thank you so much."

Goddamn, she was pretty. Older, probably around his age, and _gorgeous_. Dark eyes and long dark hair. A small nose sat so delicately on her lovely face, right above a wide nervous smile full of perfect teeth. Eddie blinked at her, only realizing he'd forgotten to answer when Venom cut through his dumbstruck fog-

**"SAY SOMETHING. YOU'RE EMBARRASSING US."**

"Uh... uh..." What the hell was wrong with him! "N-No, yeah, no- It was nothing." He stuttered. His hand had dropped from around her shoulders, but the woman's manicured nails were still on his chest, her head bowed a little to let out a cute "phew" before she stepped back. She was smiling, not seeming to have noticed his self-conscious twitching.

"Good. For a second there, I thought I was gonna end up in urgent care for the evening. " Her hands finally fell away, moving to run through her hair again. "I'm serious. _Great_ reflexes."

"Oh-" Eddie snorted stupidly. "It was nothing, really. Are _uhh-_ Are you okay?"

Lord, he was a mess. Pull it _together_ , Brock!

"Yes, thanks to you." The comment had Eddie blushing all over again like some virgin teen on his way to prom. He and Venom had saved plenty of people lately, but he never got praise or recognition for it. Not a big deal, the anonymity kept them both safe, but _damn_ it was nice hearing a "thank you" now and then.

"I mean it. You saved me from a trip to the ER " She grinned, somehow sensing the swell in his pride. The woman adjusted the strap on her purse and bit her lip. "Can- ...Can I buy you a coffee? There's place right across the street,"

The question shocked Eddie and Venom both.

 **"Say no. We're busy."** His symbiote growled.

_Right. Busy._

They were too busy to take a hot damsel-in-distress up on her reward of coffee. Too busy to encourage the way she bit her lip when looking him over. Too busy to jump at the chance of making his first human friend in this city,

No. Wait, _NO!_ He was _not_ too busy. He lived his life day in and day out catering to Venom's demands. _Well, not today._

"Yeah, sure. I mean- I could always go for coffee."

**"WHAT?"**

"Great! uhmm. Okay! Let's pay for our stuff and I'll meet you by the door?"

"Sounds good." He smiled, charm bleeding back into his bones like an old friend. "My name's Eddie Brock, by the way. You gotta name too, I assume."

"Mmhm. May Parker." she answered.

 _May Parker_ looked back at him _twice_ before she left the isle. He had watched her go out of the corner of his eye, trying to play it cool and not sure if he was succeeding or not.

 **"We _HATE_ coffee."** Venom cursed, voice ringing in his head like an angry fire alarm. It had no affect on the human this time though. He hadn't felt this good about himself in ages.

"It's not about the coffee, buddy." Eddie smiled to himself, picking another package of chocolate off the shelf. "It's not about the coffee."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! Short beginning glimpse of what Eddie and Venom are up to. Hope you're ready for some craziness ;)


	2. Political Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter struggles to pay attention during class, Eddie and May have a “hallmark” moment, and Venom still hates coffee.

" _So_ ," Mr. Doffer chirped, tapping overzealously at the PowerPoint remote in his hand. "Business interest groups will generally lobby for lower individual and corporate taxes. Can anyone tell me what the alternative would be?"

The class was silent, dull eyes staring down their teacher like a fuzzy tv channel. Never one to give into the pressures of teaching a bunch of high-schoolers, the chubby man happily pressed on anyway. "I'll give you a hint: Collective bargaining! _Exciting_ , right?” 

The class collectively groaned.

From his seat in the back of the room, Peter was lucky enough to go unnoticed. Doffer hadn’t caught him daydreaming yet, so there he sat: eyes half lidded and head turned out the window, staring into the gray-toned afternoon.

Really, he had no one to blame but himself.

When given the choice between studying Monsters & Myths or Political Science for his last class of the day, the hero-in-training jumped at the chance to study a subject he thought would be interesting. Midtown's focus on science was nice and all, but Peter was hoping something “out of the ordinary” would keep him from sleeping during class. Monster's and Myths was a _definite_ NO. He didn't have the extra time to read more books (especially useless ones), so Political Science it was! He remembered how excited he'd been about taking the class too. He waited _all_ day for that class to come around-  Lunch, 6th period, 7th period, 8th period, and FINALLY 9th period.

Of course, that had been _before_ he knew how much work the class required.

Calling it an AP level taste of literature and Government wouldn't even begin to describe the work load _Political Science_ added to his day. Essay after essay, project after project and there was homework... EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

A small part of him wanted to march right down to his guidance counselor's office and demand a switch, but the alternative probably wouldn't have been much better. It was bullshit his way through a handful of essays and projects _or_ read several _horrendously_ long texts about slimy swamp monsters?

_Oh Golly Gee._

Well, at very least, the subject matter of Political Science was relevant and useful to his life... sort of. And it _could_ be interesting sometimes. Today, however, was NOT one of those times. 

 _Nope._ Today, Peter was much more interested in anything and everything else that crossed his mind. The weather, the snow that was supposed to fall on Wednesday, the squirrel that was burying a banana peel under rubble in the parking lot, the shower gel he was running out of in his bathroom. Yup! Anything and everything _including_ his latest conversation with Tony Stark.

It was just a check in, nothing note-worthy per say. There were no Avengers going rogue, or evil-doers using alien weaponry to get rich. All good things, but also Peter would have LOVED it to be one of those calls he often fantasized about:

_"Spider-Man?"_

"Go for Spider-Man."

_"Thank god you picked up, kid. We need you, Spider-Man! The world's in trouble and only you can save us!"_

"Don't worry, Mr. Stark. You can count on Spider-Man. And may I just say that it is an _honor_ to be considered one of Earth's sworn protectors."

_"You're the best, Spider-Man."_

"Thank you, Mr. Stark."

Yeeeeah. A nice dream, but a far cry from reality. The phone call he received last night had started off as any other phone call with his mentor:

"Hello? Mr. Stark?"

 _"Ah. Hey, kid. Would you hold on a second, I gotta-  Yeah NO. TELL HIM I'M OUT TO LUNCH....What? It's six already? TELL HIM I'M OUT TO DINNER."_ A shuffling of papers could be heard on the other end and then the slam of a door before the older hero was back on the line. _"Uhhh- Where were we? Oh! Hey, Pete. How’s school?"_

The greeting made his mood deflate like a popped mickey mouse balloon. If Spider-Man had truly been needed, Mr. Stark would've gotten right to the point.

"Erm.." Despite his disappointment, the teen swallowed and tried to sound enthusiastic. "It's going great! Uh. I mean, so far. It's a little hard to get back into the swing of things, but I really like my classes this year."

Telling Mr. Stark exactly what he wanted to hear was the best way to go about conversations with the billionaire. The older hero enjoyed doing most of the talking, usually only half listening to the one-sentence replies Peter answered with, but last night was different. Last night, when Peter told his mentor about his new Political Science class, Tony Stark actually seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say.

_"Political Science, huh? Good choice. Monsters and Myths sounds like a joke. I would've skipped the ancient Greek bible class too. How many more credits do you need before you graduate?"  
_

Peter grinned and basked in the attention. It was a rare happening when it came to Tony Stark and, as foolish as it sounded, the teenager craved the man's acceptance and friendship more than he could help. Being the closest thing to a "father-figure" Peter had, Mr. Stark had slowly become the one person in all the world he yearned to impress. Aunt May would always be there for him and he loved her, but that was different... different in a way Peter couldn't exactly describe.

He wouldn't say they were "besties" by a long shot, but the cold professional distance the man had put between himself and the hero-in-training was becoming shorter. Ever since the debacle on the ferry, Peter felt like he was having to prove himself that much more. The heated exchange they shared, though admittedly mended a bit by his capture of the Vulture, still sat uncomfortably between them. He figured it would take one more BIG heroic moment to finally put the bad memories to rest for good. Now finding a "big" moment that was small enough for the Avengers to not be involved in, but still "big" enough to be considered "BIG" was a difficult task. 

"S-So, I was thinking," Peter had stuttered, biting on his fingers and grateful the man wasn't there to witness it. "If you needed help with anything, maybe Spider-Man could take-on some of the Avengers’ bad guys this year?"

The tired sigh on the other end of the line said it all. _"Nah, kid. Super secret Avenger business. You’ve got school to focus on, remember? But, hey, if I need a Spider-Man you're my first go-to."_

 The rejection was certainly not a surprise, but it still stung. Peter had refused the Avengers, told Mr. Stark he wanted to focus on school and life, but all he could ever think of was the Avengers. He wanted so bad to prove he was more than just the little kid Iron-Man obviously still saw him as. 

If he could go back in time and accept the offer-

"Mr. Leeds," Doffer called, startling Peter out of his thoughts. His best friend Ned was occupying the seat next to his own. The poor kid looked frantic, eyes shooting up and finger slamming down on his laptop as if Doffer had just caught him watching porn.

"Yeah?"

"Come on up to the board and write _one_ of ways interest group leaders strengthen the power of their groups."

 Ned frowned in Peter's direction. "Oookay?"

Poor Ned. That long, horrible walk up to the front of the room was filled with self-loathing and crap-dusting. Ned had never been the type of kid who enjoyed standing in front of the class. It made him anxious and shaky and Peter couldn't help feeling a little angry at the teachers for continuing to call him up even though it was clear it made Ned upset. High School was mean enough, a far cry from a "safe space" where one could conquer their fears without ridicule. 

And Midtown certainly had its fair share of bullies.

"Uhhhhh right. Interest group leaders..."

Ned shuffled to a stop in front of the SmartBoard, hand hovering over the marker tray. It took him a ridiculous amount time to choose what color he wanted to write in. Peter suspected it was just his friend’s way of scrambling to come up with something to write. As self-conscious as his friend was feeling though, not a soul in the room was paying attention.

As soon as the pen fell back into the tray, Ned was _running_  to his seat. The cheap plastic creaked under his weight and he flopped down with a audible "phew". Peter offered a small thumbs-up. Wrong or right, his friend could use the encouragement. 

Mr. Doffer adjusted his glasses and inspected the messy slanted sentence.

" _Ah!_ Correct, Mr. Leeds! Well done!"

 That was it... or that should have been it.

A nasty snort sounded from the other side of the room. Peter knew who it was even before he turned his head: 

Flash Thompson

“Nerd!” He’d coughed into a closed fist. It was infantile and crude and yet _somehow_  managed to make every student in the class break out into laughter. Ned pretended to laugh along, as if the joke wasn't on him, as if that asshole deserved a reaction at all.

Peter bit his lip and fumed. The Summer had apparently treated Flash well, he was taller this year and more muscular. Meaner too, a TOTAL D-bag and Peter was on his shit-list. He had been able to avoid the ass for most of the first two months, but now November was here and it appeared that Flash had begun to catch on. "Penis Parker" would be shouted across lengthy hallways and sometimes the now taller teen would even physically push and trip him. It was never enough to hurt him, Peter was _Spider-Man_ for crying out loud, but it didn't make the abuse feel any less demeaning.

Ned was Flash’s second favorite target, thankfully. Peter would take bullet for his best friend, even if that bullet was in the form of a very embarrassing verbal exchange with one of Midtown’s biggest assholes. 

"Alright everyone. Settle down." Doffer hushed, completely oblivious to the act of bullying that had just taken place. "We've got exactly ten minutes left of class, so I'd like to spend that time explaining the group project and splitting you all up.”

...

* * *

 ...

Eddie followed the woman's bubbly steps across the street to a small coffee hangout. Situated right on the corner, the place had a surprisingly great view of one of the less touristy parts of New York City. It was no ghost town, far from it, but there was a difference between the buzz of tourists and the buzz of the everyday New Yorker going about their business.

The place had a _great_ atmosphere too. Dark brown walls were brought to life by furniture colors that screamed Autumn all year round. The smell of coffee filled the air as soon as he walked in the door, along with vanilla, cocoa, cinnamon and hazelnut. The smell was even enough to make Venom stir, bobbing and bubbling under his skin in search for the source of such wonderful smells.

"Are you in a hurry at all?" May asked, plucking a pretty leather glove off her right hand and setting it on a small empty table to the left.

"Hm? No! No, I'm in no hurry."

She was left handed. It was something Eddie always noticed about people, what hand they favored. Decades ago, when he'd been a little anxiety-ridden kid, his knack for spotting what hand people wrote with was always a great conversation starter with his classmates. It was sort of his way of breaking out of his shell. Ha! If only Baby Eddie could see him now: Still drowning in anxiety, but making friends with people he just met in a grocery store. He didn’t think it was too soon to be calling May a friend. She was buying him coffee after all.

Eddie took a seat at her claimed table and wriggled out of his coat. She did the same and asked "What coffee would you like?"

"Any coffee is fine with me, honestly _._ I'll even drink it black."

"Ah, a fellow coffee-lover. I can appreciate that." May teased, setting her two small bags against his chair. He was a bit surprised that she would already trust him enough to leave her bags alone with him. That classic _Eddie_ _Brock_ charm must be working, that or she had noticed the way he was looking at her. It was very likely May knew he wouldn't disappear without asking for a phone number. "Should I surprise you, then?"

"Surprise me?" Eddie chuckled. He set his own bags directly under his feet, keeping the cold goods together.  Hopefully the meat and tater tots would be alright. He knew Venom would eat them either way, but he'd rather not be puking all night if he could help it.

"Yeah, a surprise coffee! I have a good one in mind. I think you'll like it."

"Mm.” Whats the worst she could come up with? “Alright, Go for it."

"That's the spirit!" It was May's turn to laugh, that lovely chime like a bell, the one he'd heard in the store while her nails pressed into his chest and he heels scratched against the floor. "I'll be right back. Keep an eye on my bags, please!"  

He nodded, watching her greet the barista at the counter like an old friend. The smell of her hair had wafted his way when she turned her back. It was nice, a little minty, but in a good way. It wasn't floral like Anne's... it was _nothing_ like Anne's. It was strong, but not overpowering like a perfume. It must be her shampoo or something.

 **"She bathes herself."** Venom interjected, sounding a little annoyed. **"This is a requirement of yours, Eddie?"**

Eddie had to stop himself from physically slapping a hand to his forehead. Venom could read every one of his thoughts, but sometimes his comprehension was a little off. Since moving to New York, there really hadn’t been much time for him to get out there and talk to women. Venom got the idea and understood the end game of his infatuation with the opposite sex (in a rudimentary way), but the only experience the symbiote had with girls was Anne. After his ex had announced she was getting married, Eddie tried his hardest to move on. It was just difficult finding time to do that between writing his articles, keeping Venom in check, and starting his new life in a place where he had no friends.

Still, Venom making a full-hearted attempt at understanding these kinds of things was sweet. It really was like Venom said: They were on the same side. The symbiote's loose understanding was at least enough to keep him from purposely making Eddie out to look like a fool. If the creature hadn't made him jump the barista counter and eat every chocolate chip muffin in the store yet, he figured he was good.

"Okay!" Less than five minutes later May was back, smiling beautifully at him. Her hair acted like a bundle of feathers, lifting off her shoulders with each excited step back to the table. She was balancing four cups on a tray, two regular sized coffees and what looked like two small coffee shots.

Eddie felt Venom shrink at the sight of her tray, sinking back, far from the forefront of Eddie's consciousness. It reminded him of Anne's cat, the way it would quietly hide under a table to observe. Silent, but present. The symbiote's dislike of coffee could also be the reason for "hiding".

**"We HATE coffee."**

Not completely true. Venom actually really liked the _taste_ of coffee, he just didn't care so much for what the caffeine did to his host's body. Something about his heart and brain activity... Eddie wasn't exactly sure. He didn't want the alien to be uncomfortable, but who in their right mind would ever say no to May Parker? He _had_ to take the coffee.

"I got us both a single origin espresso, aaaand - " She bit her lip and pushed one of the taller cups in his direction. "Because it's after 3pm, and I have a rule about too much caffeine in the afternoon, I went with a salted caramel hot chocolate."  

**"A _What?"_**

"A hot chocolate, huh?" Holy shit, this woman is after his parasite's heart and she doesn't even know it. "That is an incredibly perfect surprise order. Thank you."

May’s cheeks reddened. “You’re welcome. So tell me, what does _Eddie_ _Brock_ do?”

pffffsh. Isn’t THAT a loaded question. 

"I'm a freelance writer. Newspapers give me a subject and I run with it." He took a sip of his espresso, savoring the incredible taste of what must be this store's specialty. "Just moved here too. Thought I’d give New York a try. I used to have my own spot on a channel in San Francisco, but I was getting bored with it all.”

Half truth. She didn’t need to know about Anne.

"A channel? Like a News Anchor?"

"Mm-Nah. A _reporter_. I'd nab interviews with big businesses and politicians."

"Whoa. Gosh, that's _incredible!"_  

"It was fun. Put food on the table for a good decade of my life." He said with a smirk that was definitely worthy of her phone number. "What about May Parker? What does she do?"

"Jeez. How do I follow _that_?" She leaned her head on her hand and stretched her elbow out across her corner of the table. "I work for a women-run law office. So a lot of paper pushing, but loads of gossip, wine, and ass-kicking to make up for it."

”Alright, well I’m sold on that idea. You think they’ll open it up if I put in my application?”

”For sure. Bring your law degree to the interview.” 

“Ouch." He grinned. "Yeah, I’ll have to get back to you on that.” 

Subjects came and went with ease. Eddie told her a few stories from some of his crazier interviews and May talked about the women she worked with. When their talks delved a little deeper, Eddie found out that May Parker was a widow. Not too surprising, of course she had been married before, he was just a little sad to hear that the guy had _died._ On top of that little bit of family drama, she was also apparently the sole guardian of her late brother-in-law’s son. The boy, Peter, was still in high school and went to some ridiculously fancy place known for cranking out the world's top brainiacs.

"Oh, he is a _very_ smart boy, that's for sure. Getting older and taller every day.” She sighed. “I just wish he had a little more common sense sometimes, you know?"

The conversation lasted another hour before May declared she had to be home to make Peter dinner. The timing was perfect for Eddie too. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stand Venom's bored hungry growls...

 **We're STARVING, Eddie."** And not for tater-tots, he knew. Venom's patience had an expiration date when it came to that _type_ of food. **"Fuel in the tank."**

_Right._

_Time to go.  
_

On the way out, Eddie took the initiative and asked for May's phone number before they'd parted ways. His optimistic approach paid off. She gave it to him without pause.

"We should do this again sometime... The coffee- not the falling." He quipped. His new friend hummed softly, fitting each glove back on her hand with delicate ease.

"I'm free this Friday night" She said "A little late for coffee, but I know a great Chinese place with a bar next door." 

 **"Say _yesss_." **Venom hissed. Eddie wasn't dumb enough to think it was for any reason other than the promise of Chinese food. It was a start though, and he'd take it. He had three more hours until sundown. Three more hours until Venom took the reins, but none of that could kill the mood he was in. His alien blob might be a little pissy, but at least he had a date.

He was going to love living in New York.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll check back in with Spider-Man in the next chapter, I'm expecting him to have an eventful night.


	3. Bad Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark gives the Life Foundation his full attention, while a stressed out Spider-Man looks for trouble on the streets of New York.

The warped twisted metal and burning debris was nothing but rubble in the sand. Each mini rush of filthy water lapping against the rocks brought an onslaught of new fancy gifts... fancy _charred_ gifts That had to be broken down and examined, recorded, and sent away in a very expensive shipping container.

The whole thing was an absolute _mess_.

What had once been some obscene take on a space rocket, was now a miserable hunk of scraps, about as useful as a crushed car. One by one, eight by eight, and twenty by twenty, pieces of Carlton Drake’s art project would collect at the water’s edge. It was ridiculous, honestly. A huge waste of time. There were no secrets to be pulled from those pieces, no hints, or computers, or chips left to answer his burning questions.

It was no use waiting around for more broken hardware to come rolling along the beach, and he certainly wouldn’t be standing around all day waiting for answers to LITERALLY float by. Tony Stark needed to turn his gaze somewhere else, somewhere less- Mmm- wet? And preferably indoors.

Sure, yeah, no big deal. There were plenty of other places Tony Stark could find his answers, and place numero uno was The Life Foundation building.

 _Oh_ yeah. They called themselves _The Life Foundation_.

A pretty hoity-toity name for such a low-ball establishment. The building was adorned with all sorts of corrupt ghoulish fun like cages, restraints, and blood. You know, every psychopath's grandest daydream? It was an honest to god mystery how a place like that was able to slip under OSHA’s radar. _Seriously_ , The Life Foundation was more “haunted house” than the innovative science center it claimed to be.

”Innovative?” He couldn’t help snorting at the word plastered on every page of Carlton Drake’s website.

The madman was smart, no doubt about it, but his machines were cheap, his methods outdated, and that wasn’t even counting the asshole’s lack of ethics. It looked like the news reports of people being tortured and killed at LF was 100% true.

67 fatalities, and not all of those bodies were accounted for. People lost mothers, fathers, daughters, and friends. People lost money, every dime they had invested in the seemingly heroic science facility. It was a local tragedy, and the city of San Fransisco was just starting to heal from it.

The explosion was enough to scare everyone, but then police broke into the actual building to find that the incident had extended much farther than just a botched rocket launch. Something horrible had happened inside that place and it had nothing to do with the rocket. Each room Tony would step foot in reminded him of a horror film. bodies were cut, crumbled, and burned. Some had even been dead for far longer than what made sense. It seemed, whatever CEO Carlton Drake had been up to, he’d failed _badly._

Of course there were plenty of rumors circulating, plenty of people crying “maybe” and “I swear I saw”, but the word that had The Avengers worried was “aliens”. 

Planting itself on the other side of the United States, far far from the Avengers and Shield’s watchful eye, they’d managed to get away with what actually was amounting to be murder. _Insane_ how they were able to hide it for so long. Heck, if Happy hadn’t sent him that chaotic interview of Carlton Drake in jest, he probably wouldn’t have paid them any mind either. 

The viral Life Foundation video was a piece of accidental comedy brilliance if Tony had ever seen one. It was an interview “fail” worthy of failarmy, conducted by none other than the king of douchebag-reporters Eddie Brock. 

 _Pffsh._ Now _that_ was a difficult name to forget.

Eddie Brock, reporter and conspiracy blogger, worked for one of the biggest news honchos in San Fransisco. He was huge in the early 2000s, real popular with the housewives of Cali, and eventually got his own slot on a channel. Brock would purposely dig deep, he’d find the lowest of low that had ever happened at a company and then throw it in their CEO’s face during a live interview. That douchebag would call it “honest reporting”. HA. There was nothing honest about throwing a corporation under the bus for shit he had no physical proof of. Okay, well it probably depends on the situation, but still-  If San Francisco came anywhere NEAR Stark Industries’ press talks, it was already a known fact that _Eddie Brock_ was not allowed in.

Tony wasn’t a coward. He could take criticism and give it back again, but it was just the ruthless way Brock would go about it.

Back before the Iron Man suit, before the desert, before Obadiah's betrayal, and the creation of the Avengers,  Tony Stark had been a massive dick.

And that was coming from the heart. 

Hard to believe it nowadays, but there was a time when Tony had actually ignored 80% of what was going on around him. There was some stuff going on in Stark Industries that he hadn’t known about... and yet _somehow_ Eddie Brock did. 

The press conference fight with Brock was one of his worst memories. He remembered the whole thing like it had happened yesterday. Brock sat in the front row, guns blazing, ready to make Tony out to be some evil comic book villain with a boner for death and destruction. Definitely not the case. Of course, the world knew that now, but back then it REALLY hurt his PR. It took weeks for people to stop replaying the argument between him and Brock on the news... weeks for them to stop making fun of the fact that Tony, supposedly brilliant and savvy and cool, had very noticeably lost a cat fight with San Fransisco’s nastiest reporter. 

It had been one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, and that was saying a lot for a billionaire playboy. His friend Happy had thrown Brock out of the conference that day, so it was just fitting that Happy would also be the one to send him a video of that same reporter having the most awkward interview in the history of television with The Life Foundation.

 _Goddammit_ that video was funny. As Tony watched the awkward exchange between Carlton Drake and Brock, he couldn’t help but feel that karma had finally reached out to bite that man on the ass. It wasn’t until Tony began really listening to what Brock was accusing them of, that the video suddenly lost its humor. The whole thing was suspiciously weird. Carlton Drake didn't take the accusations well, of course, but it was more than that. The scientist looked nervous, angry, and even _afraid_. Fear that Eddie Brock had somehow found out the truth behind his creepy science sex dungeon? Maybe so.

Whatever had triggered the fear, it was enough for Tony to make a mental note  reminding himself to look into the company. If they were doing something illegal there wasn’t much else he could do except pass the info to the feds, but if it _was_ something more... 

Well, Tony Stark was a busy man. His research on the place never got very far before his attention would be pulled elsewhere. Weeks turned into months and, before he’d had time to properly look into his gut feelings on the subject, The Life Foundation was a slaughter house and Carlton Drake was dead.

Two articles were released the morning after the explosion; One detailing the “accident” and the other confirming that the accusations Eddie Brock had thrown at Drake in the viral interview (including but not limited to murder, mad science, and general public deception) were true. 

_For fucks sake._

This is what he gets for procrastinating-  a bunch of dead bodies, a blown-to-hell rocket, and proof that what the Life Foundation had been working on was definitely in the realm of comic book villainy. As soon as he read that Drake had been attempting to use _aliens_ in his research, Tony immediately took over the clean-up and bought his way into seizing the property.

Looking for answers wasn't easy. Every last hard drive had been wiped. The cabinets were empty, and the remaining employees refused to speak to him without their lawyers present. It seemed Drake had prepared for his company's own demise.

Now, Tony could relate to genius. To think nothing would ever go wrong during a joyride through space was cocky, arrogant, and soooo a genius’ style...  But not Drake’s? That madman prepared for the worst. He knew there was a screw loose somewhere in his plan for that rocket, but what was the plan? More importantly- where was the loose screw?

So here he was in San Fransisco, running through the wiped computers, letting F.R.I.D.A.Y. pick around and hoping to pull a needle from a haystack. It wasn’t impossible. Mistakes happen. Things get left behind. A computer’s wipe is rushed. A paper or two is still in the trash, or mail is left in the mailbox.

In this case, security camera footage was left forgotten.

"Bingo. Fire it up, Friday."

It took half a year to find, One single file left covering a room that never seemed to be occupied. It contained the rushing feet of a few scientists, the quick half-assed mopping of custodial workers, and a boring shuffle of boxes on the room’s center table. Definitely wouldn’t be much proof of anything... except for a small twenty second clip.

“Zoom in. Face recognition.”

The image was black and white, but decently clear. A desperate man, clearly in some kind of distress, running in and tripping over the boxes. He pauses, looks about the room, and then scrambles back over the boxes to the exit. There was only three seconds where the man full-on faced the camera, enough for Tony to get a solid screenshot and for Friday to find a match.

 _“Found.”_ His AI announced. _“Name: Edward Charles Brock. Age: 41..."_

Eddie Brock.

The name stunned him. What was Brock doing at the Life Foundation? Clearly he wasn’t a welcome guest. Carlton Drake would’ve never allowed the idiot in after that aggressive interview. The reporter must have snuck in. _Huh._ Now, that he thought about it, that’d actually make perfect sense. It was probably how the news got a hold of all that dirt in the first place. The guy found a way in and recorded what he needed to clear his name. 

_Crazy bastard_

But even  _more_ interesting was the date on the footage taken, recorded only a few days before the explosion.

"What?" A flick of his hands had the glowing screen collecting photos of the surprising new info. "Stop. Play back."

The picture instantly rewound at Tony's request. Brock’s image retraced his steps, blundering and scurrying back to his initial entrance. "Loop."

He watched again and again, over and over until there was nothing more to pull from it. He needed more info, more than what the papers released, more than the witness statements of scientists who feared jail-time,

He needed to speak with Eddie Brock. 

“ _Auugh_.”

What kind of sick joke was fate playing? 

...

* * *

 ...

Peter was sick to his stomach.

In two weeks, he and the rest of his _group_ needed to have a finished project consisting of: two eight-page essays, A PowerPoint presentation, two posters, and one professional interview.

What the heck!

It was too much to ask for, especially since Political Science was technically a filler. What teacher in their right mind would assign a project this huge in the first few months of school? And ridiculous as it was, it actually counted a lot towards his final grade... in JUNE.

 _Stupid._  The whole class was stupid!  

Peter had been part of large group projects before, arguably larger and more in depth than this one, but this project was already doomed from the start. Mr. Doffer had chosen wisely... from a teacher's perspective. Putting the kid with the highest grade so far together with the three kids who had the lowest grades would force the others to step up their game, right?

WRONG.

This was high school! The kids at Midtown were competitive, but only when it came to Science. _Political_ Science was not the same thing.

Shit-Show group member number one: Gabby Larson.

Self- proclaimed princess of her father's very high castle, Gabby thrived off of tricking other people into doing her work for her. She was notoriously bad at schoolwork and Peter even had the creeping suspicion that the only reason she was still in this school was because of her father's very generous donations. She'd always been nice enough, but it didn't help her lazy attitude.

Shit-Show group member number two: Flash Thompson.

Ugh. _Of course_ he'd be stuck with Flash for a group project. His teacher must truly be turning a blind eye to the bully's antics. Or maybe he thought working together on something would smooth things over or make them friends... Pffsh! Yeah right. Flash was going to make this class a living hell.

The last person added into their lovely little group was Trent Marko (aka The Sandman). They called him Sandman for a reason. He _always_ fell _asleep_ during class. In fact, he'd never even heard Mr. Doffer talk about the group project because he was _ASLEEP_.

It was like a nightmare Peter couldn't wake up from. The moment Flash heard his name called, he'd looked over at Peter with a smug expression and winked. It honestly couldn't have been worse.

"Sorry about that group project, man." Ned had clapped him on the shoulder after class. His genuine friendly comfort helped a little, but not enough to lighten the dark clouds swirling around the teen’s head. It was terrible. The whole bus ride home, Peter was smacking his forehead against the window murmuring "Why me?"

In true _Ned_ fashion, the kid opted to ignore this. His friend was chattering on about some new video game his grandfather bought him for his birthday. It was one Peter had so badly wanted to play too, but his worries about the project kept him from listening. Would the others in his group do their share? Would he be stuck trying to finish it all by himself? Between crime-fighting and his normal homework, when would he find the time? Would Flash make the whole experience a living hell? All good questions, none of which had definite answers. It was going to be a "play it by ear" disaster scenario.

_Oh Yippee._

Unlike Peter, Aunt May seemed to be in a _great_ mood when he came home. She wasn’t just happy, she was on cloud nine, twirling and bopping around the kitchen like a modern Snow White. Her long hair was tugged up in a loose pony-tail and her business casual was exchanged for a pair of yoga pants and cotton tee. She smiled at him when he came through the door, half bent over the kitchen sink, mixing something with enough vigor to please Gordon Ramsay.  

"Hey!" She called sweetly, tucking a couple of stray hairs behind her ear. "How was school?"

And because the angsty window-bashing and long walk up the stairs hadn't helped him one bit, Peter chose to answer with a very uncalled for grumble.

" _Stupid_."  

It was such a "teenage" thing to say, grumpy and full of anger that was in no way directed at his aunt. Still, the startled look on her face had him back-peddling. Dammit, Peter. How could he be so insensitive? It wasn't fair for him to ruin May's mood over something that happened at school. It wasn't fair to ruin May's mood over something that happened _anywhere_.

"Hey, I'm Sorry." He immediately apologized. "School was just crappy. I had a bad day.”

He walked closer to where May was mixing, wiggling out of his backpack and aiming to throw it down the hallway in front of his bedroom door. He missed. The stupid thing flew through the air and took out a framed photo of him as a kid, knocking it right off the wall. Peter winced at the sound of glass shattering and closed his eyes.

There was a few seconds of tense silence and then a small sigh. When Peter dared peek at the woman through one eye, May was staring down the hall at the shattered glass. " _Ooo_ kay." she mumbled, hand still absently mixing the noodles in her bowl. "We'll clean that up later, I guess.'

"Sorry."

"It's okay." She set her mixing spoon aside and shook her hands over a towel. After a few deep breaths, May looked up. Peter was surprised to see that the look in her eyes still reflected that happy giddy mood. Whatever had happened to her today, it must have been really good. Maybe she got a raise? A promotion? "Peter, I'm all ears. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." Peter snorted tiredly and looked down at the food his aunt was preparing. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to say it all again just so she can give him the same advise Ned gave him. He was sick of it, sick of thinking about it, sick of worrying about it...  _Wow_ dinner smelled good.

"What are you making?"

"Oh!" His aunt beamed, lifting her mixture onto the countertop. "Chicken Riggies! Courtesy of my mother's old cookbook. And you're in luck, they're perfect for a bad day."

Admittedly, the chicken riggies _did_ put Peter in a much better mood. It didn't cure the problem though. The stress was still there, simmering and itching-

"Nothing a night out as Spider-Man won't fix." He whispered to himself, watching May fuss with their dirty dishes from his cozy spot on the living room couch. Spider-Man would have to wait, unfortunately. The clock on his phone read 7pm, that was four hours before May went to bed.

Times had sure been tough for New York's friendly neighborhood superhero. He couldn't leave the apartment after dinner anymore and sneaking out was damn near impossible. Ever since learning about his nightly escapades as a masked vigilante, his Aunt May had put her foot down A LOT more about what he was doing, where he was going, and who he was hanging around with.

One face she definitely did not want to see was Tony Stark's.

May had stayed up ranting the whole night when she'd found out about Spider-Man. It had taken some serious begging and consoling to stop her from picking up the phone and calling Iron Man herself. Now THAT would have been embarrassing. Aunt May, of course, didn't see it that way. Mr. Stark had lied to her and used Peter, from her perspective. The cuts, the bruises, the slipping grades, she saw it all as having been an effect of Tony Stark's influence.

Maybe she was right about some of that, but Peter had been playing Spider-Man _way_ before Mr. Stark had stepped in. If anything, the older hero made Peter's life safer. His upgraded suits and (sometimes unorthodox) mentoring had saved Peter's butt on more than one occasion. He didn't have it in him to tell May that though. If May had any clue how much danger her nephew was actually in on a daily basis, she would have his suits burned and she would lock him away in the house for good, he was sure. He didn't want to worry her like that, she didn't deserve that kind of pain.

So Peter waited.

He waited until he heard her retreat to her room for the night, light off and humidifier on, before he covered his face with the mask.

"Karen?"

 _"Good evening, Peter."_ the soft feminine voice of his suit's interface program came to life. The screens in Spider-Man's eyes lit up and adjusted its brightness levels. Karen always blinded him a bit when she turned on. It was a flaw he'd meant to tell Mr. Stark about, but whenever he talked to the man it always slipped his mind.

"Hey, Karen! " He whispered, fumbling out his bedroom window. "You ready to find some trouble?"

Peter aimed his web-shooter at the roof two building's over and leapt into the sky. It had been a pretty dull week. The colder it got in New York City, the less likely he was to spot any dirty business happening on the streets. Bad guys got cold too, he supposed.

"Come _on_. Give me something, Karen!" His breath appeared in a white cloud billowing from his mouth. He should have known his bad luck would extend into his night as Spider-Man. Not an evil-doer in sight, or at least out in the open. Damn this cold. If he had only been out and about earlier... but no, that was impossible with May watching his every move after school.

 _"We could use this time to fulfill your training protocols."_ Karen helpfully suggested.

"What? Oh, umm- Not tonight."

Awkward. Mr. Stark had told him to finish those months ago. "I'm in more of an action-y mood tonight, Karen. We've just gotta find some bad guys, A few people who are up to no good." 

 _"Like those men over there?"_ The AI zoomed in on a group of four sneaky looking dudes gathered around a small independent grocery store. It was located just a little ways down the street, bright green roof with a comically oversized "closed" sign hanging in the window. Peter recognized it. It was the same grocery store Aunt May would drag him to sometimes. The place was her favorite. Oh man, he couldn't let these guys ruin Aunt May's favorite store!

Spider-Man threw himself into the chilly New York air, swinging to a painted green roof and landing noiselessly on the ledge above a nervous group of goons. All of them were wearing ski masks (classic) and sporting some kind of weapon in their hand. One of the men was kneeling down, aggressively yanking on the store's locked door handle.

Peter grinned.

_"Bad guys."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! And Tony is officially in the story! Sorry for any grammar errors, she's a beast as a whole and I was running a bit behind on getting this part of her out. Happy Holidays! Hopefully a few thieves is all Peter has to worry about in that store O_o


	4. A Monster In New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night catching bad guys turns into something out of Sigourney Weaver’s nightmares.

“ _Jeeeez_.” Peter sighed.

The brick ledge he'd been standing on was deathly quiet. All other sounds from the _city that never sleeps_ weremuffled by the larger buildings surrounding it. A steady fall of snow was only just beginning _dust_ the wet salted streets, turning dirty puddles into muddy slush

“Karen, what’s the temperature out here?” It had to be getting down there. Clouds of hot air were floating up and out of his mask every time he’d open his mouth.

Ever the optimist, the AI was quick to answer, telling him “ _9_ _degrees"_  with a little too much cheer.

 _Uuuugh..._ Holy mother of ice cubes, it was cold. He was _freezing_ and every second that Peter stood waiting around, his spidey-suited body was getting colder and colder

_“If you’re cold, you can use the self-drying function to-.”_

" _No_." The teen cut in. "It’s too loud. I don’t want to blow my cover.”

Aw man. Being cold had always made him a bit cranky. Poor Karen was only trying to be helpful though. He knew she was just an AI, of course he did, but the teen still couldn’t stand the fact that he might’ve hurt her artificial feelings. 

“Um. Thanks anyway for the suggestion, Karen.”

” _No_ _problem_.” 

Peter sighed again and absently ran his feet over the roof’s collecting snow. It was taking the thieves twelve, long, AGONIZING minutes to break into the store.  _Twelve_. That’s eight more minutes than most. Peter wasn’t judging, he was just saying. The average time was three minutes. At _most_ losers took six. It was kind of getting ridiculous. As far as stupidity goes, these guys were already breaking _several_ records. 

“There’s not even bars.” He whispered into the sky, rubbing an agitated hand over his mask. “The door is made out of wood! Just kick it in!” 

Of course, Spider-Man _could_ have stopped this mess twelve minutes ago. He could've leapt down and intimidated the daylights out of these newbies, sent them scurrying before any break-in actually occurred, but what was the fun in that? He had a bad day! He needed a better scare than just the normal oogie-boogie and trick-or-treat. He needed something that said DON’T TRY THAT AGAIN. You know, a scuffle- Just a few quick kicks and punches and he’d tie them to a street lamp and call the police. Night made! Great plan, except that was all heavily dependent on the thieves getting into the store in the first place...

“Oh boy, Karen. This is just not my night.” 

It was a struggle-bus from the start with these guys. While one man wrestled with the single-bolt door, three others stood nervously at his back, shuffling their feet in the freshly fallen snow and looking positively clueless. Peter almost felt bad for the poor band of bad-guys. They were shaking in their snow boots, chattering away like elementary school kids waiting for a doctor’s appointment. 

“Man, this had better be worth it. It’s freezing out here.” One of the guys said. Peter nick-named him Captain Obvious. He was wearing a big oversized blue snow coat and matching hat. The coat went all the way down to his knees where his black jeans were bunched up into some clunky boots. Captain Obvious looked like one of the goons from a _Home_ _Alone_  film: old, jittery, and unkept.

“ _Really_. Can we hurry this up, please?” 

The man standing next to the Captain looked like he hadn’t checked the weather before going out. Poor sucker was only wearing a sleek black jacket and sneakers. In 9 degree weather, you can bet your ass he was cold. Peter dubbed him _Mr_. _Weatherman_.

“How long does it take to open a door?" Weatherman hissed. "It’s freezing out here! _Come on_!” 

A much larger dude stood opposite Weatherman and Captain Obvious. He had a red beard and was arguably the most appropriately dressed- He looked ready to fight too, holding a bat in one hand and brass knuckles in the other. The bat was the first weapon Peter had noticed when surveying the scene.

Still, he couldn’t say he was intimidated or impressed. The thief's grip on the bat was... _noticeably loose._ He kept dropping it into the snow bank beside him and then scrambling to pick it up. Lord above, he was dealing with amateurs. 

“Will you guys shut up and let Johnny work? He’s doing his best.”  Aww. Red-bearded Bat-man was the _glass_ - _half_ - _full_ type. How _embarrassing_. 

He should just put an end to this right now, leap down and scare the idiots away, but the angry teenage angst in him wanted _more_ than that. He wanted a _fight_ , and if these men were bold enough to bring weapons, then they should be bold enough to use them.

**_CRRRACK!_ **

“Got it!” A sharp break echoed through the air as the wooden siding of the grocery’s doorway popped.

“Good job, Johnny!” Bat-man grinned and patted Johnny on the back hard enough to make the shorter man stumble. “We all believed in you, right guys?”

"Uh,  R-Right." Captain Obvious stuttered. Weatherman didn't look _at_ _all_ impressed. He shook some snow off his wet sneakers and shoved his way passed all three of them, motioning for the others to follow.  

 “ _Finally_.”

This was it. The fight Peter had been waiting for. The moment that was going to turn this whole mess of a day around. He could feel the adrenaline seeping back into his veins, the pinching, teasing, prickling anger that wouldn't go away. He saw it all replaying in front of his face: Flash Thompson and his stupid name-calling, Doffer and his ridiculous projects, anything and everything that had gone wrong would be shoved into this very moment.

"Showtime, Karen.”

_"Would you like me to turn on interrogation mode?”_

“What? No! No, interrogation mode.” 

_“Understood.”_

The hero gave it a count of ten before carefully crawling down the old brick wall. He paused briefly by the storefront window, peering in at the thieves inside.

The half-witted bunch had _very_ _rudely_ left the wooden door open. It swung back and forth on its own, following each swing with a low creaking sound that could give any elderly lady's rocking chair a run for its money.

"Right. Okay," He knew the store must have cameras, really _old_ cameras. Peter could already see a cheap green security lamp lighting up one half of the place’s well-stocked shelves. It looked eerie in there, a _House on Haunted Hill_ type feel, and it only served to excite the teenager more! "Ready or not!" 

In one fell swoop, Spider-Man swung in through the open door and landed on the grocery’s wet linoleum. His suit’s shoes made a light thud and stuck their landing, despite the dirty slick.

" _Phew!_ "

Non-slip was definitely a plus to Spider-Man's newest design. Mr. Stark had jokingly called it the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Suit 2 (FNS2), still a huge step down from the one sitting pretty in the Avengers' new abode. It was a nice upgrade though. Iron Man had virtually thought of everything when making his newest gear, but every now and then, like the ever-evolving supersuit it was, Peter would run into a few problems. Making the suit comfortable for the cold weather would be his next request... and maybe an upgrade on Spidey's eyes.  

"Crap." Immediately, the mask's lenses moved to adjust to the odd green lighting. Half colored green and half coated in darkness, it certainly made for a wonky lens adjustment. "ah- Karen? Can you fix the vision on these things?”

" _Removing_ _night_ - _vision_.”

"Oh- Okay. Thanks?"

 It honestly made zero difference. The room was still an obnoxious split of green and black. The back half of the store was completely unlit. Not a good environment to start a fight in, but whatever. He’d plan ahead and keep the fight up front. Easy as pie.

While Karen worked to fix the lens issues, Peter walked further into the store. All four of the thieves had gathered around the cash registers. Another stupid mistake on their part. No successful store owner EVER kept cash in the drawers over night. These guys were either the newest thieves on the block or the dumbest thrill seekers on the planet. 

“ _Boss_!”

As dumb as they were though, it didn't stop them from noticing a 5'9" masked vigilante standing 20 feet to their right.

Mr. Weatherman turned his head and gave him a sour-grape face. “What is this? Who the hell are you?”

"Fair question," Peter said and sauntered a few feet forward.

If looks could kill, Weatherman would've murdered the living hell out of him. Clearly, the guy considered himself the ringleader of this little backyard circus. No bad lighting could hide the expensive watch and designer sneakers the man was wearing. Huh- Missing proper winter gear, but sporting the most expensive duds out of the whole group? Guess money really _can’t_ buy common sense. 

“Hey guys! I’m Spider-Man,” he gestured to himself, and then pointed to the empty cash drawers. “What are you up to?”

Weatherman and his posse exchanged glances and laughed.

Whatever. That was a normal reaction from people who had never heard of him before. By the time he was through with them though, Spider-Man would be all they would talk about for years to come- he'd bet money on it.

 “Okay Okay." Weatherman collected himself and snorted. "No really, what is this? What are you dressed for? Halloween? Cage fighting?"

The group continued to laugh. Peter humored them by pretending to laugh along.

"Ah- yeah. I could say the same about you, man." He gestured to the leader's clothes and tilted his masked face. "New York in November or a Miami frat party?” 

Johnny was the only man left laughing after that. The rest of them all gawked at each other before turning to Mr. Weatherman. Not a fan of being the punch line, Peter guessed, because the thief was wearing a face that said he wanted the hero gutted alive. 

Yikes. He'd better just cut to the chase then. “Breaking and entering is a crime, guys. So uhhh throw down your bat and beat it. Deli opens at 10.” 

 “Yeah, Freak?" Weatherman spat. "Well I was thinking we'd help ourselves. You gonna do something about that?” 

"Uh, _yeah_ actually." Didn't he just say that breaking and entering was a crime? These guys need to put on their listening ears. “Look, man, I know you guys aren’t the sharpest crayons in the box, so I’ll repeat myself: _throw_ _down_ _your_ _weapon and leave_.” 

Weatherman glanced back at his bat-wielding buddy and nodded. Like a loyal dog, the bearded idiot walked forward, smirking and standing tall at his boss’ shoulder.

Peter had to stifle a laugh. What a display! Pffsh! Look at him; Bat-man would almost be intimidating if Peter hadn't just spent the last fifteen minutes watching him drop that bat in the snow.

“I'll repeat _myself_ , Freak." Weatherman elbowed Bat-man who started forward. "You gonna do something about us? Cause we're up for the challenge."

Oh _YES_. This is EXACTLY the moment Peter was asking for. _Finally_ the night is starting to turn around! 

“Okay." The lenses on his suit were still acting up, but at least they were still playing in the green spotlight. This would be cake. "Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, guys.” 

He leapt at Bat-man before the guy had even a chance to swing. For such a big man, the redhead had surprisingly good reflexes. When Spider-Man lunged into him, he brought up the weapon sideways to block the oncoming attack. A quick shuffle and shove into a display of boxed donuts released Bat-man's grip on the weapon. Peter twirled it and smacked the guy in the nose with it. Another powerful kick had the man sliding across the floor into the shadows.

Boom. One down, three to go.

“Next?” The hero laughed, turning back to the mini group of losers. Captain Obvious had a very _obvious_ stain on the front of his pants. He took one look at the suit, another look in the direction of his bearded buddy, and he was GONE. Two skips and a jump right out the door and down the street before Peter had even taken a single step towards him.

"Uhhhh... Alright. _Next?_ " Damn. He knew this would be easy, but he didn't expect a guy to literally pee their pants.

"Come on, Johnny!" Weatherman barked and shoved at the kid's back.

Poor Johnny. He was short and skinny and, honestly, looked maybe only a couple of years older than Peter himself. If Peter was gonna put a bet on who he thought would've peed their pants and fled, it would've been this one.

"Yeah, yeah, I got this." Johnny said with as much confidence as a man about to skydive out of a plane. Johnny was shaling like a leaf as he reached into the front of his pants and pulled out a gun.

"Whoa-" Okay, that definitely ups the difficulty level. "Easy there, Johnny." Peter said.

"Let the freak have it, Johnny!"  

 _Oh,_ Weatherman was gonna get it. Games were over, Peter decided. Time to focus.

A string of web shot out from the suit’s web-shooter at the press of his palm. It hit it's mark, snatching a box of soda off the shelf and flinging the whole package into Weatherman’s direction. Johnny’s gun went off, but the kid was aiming WAY too high. The bullet ricocheted and hit a ceiling light, breaking it. The light spewed glass all over the first couple of isles.

"Argh!" Peter ducked his head and rushed behind the nearest shelf, just in time for the gun to go off again.

"Karen, Splitter Web!" Peter aimed and let the two masses of web smack their targets. One hit Weatherman in the face, the other smacked Johnny's outstretched arm. Peter thought he heard a pop before the agonizing scream, but either way Johnny wouldn't be shooting that gun again anytime soon.

Poor kid, he hadn't wanted to hurt Johnny. The guy was more naive than bad. Hopefully that arm wasn't too busted.

“FREAK!”

“Oh Crap.” He didn’t have time to stew though. Bat-man was back, standing at the end of the isle Peter had been hiding behind. The man was ten times angrier now, face as red as his hair, swinging that damn stick like a jet turbine.

The hero cursed and scrambled out of the way, dodging each powerful swing with the grace of a skilled martial artist. “Come on, man! Chill!” 

It was dumb luck when his hand actually latched onto the bat. Peter back-flipped and aimed a clean punch right between Bat-man's eyes. The bearded moron let go and howled. A final kick to the groin sent him to his knees.

_Ha! Yes!_

Right there. These were the moments that gave Peter a thrill. A fight that lead up to his final beat-down. He was winning, more than winning, he was _pulverizing_ these guys. Taunts and sneers were wiped from their faces, replaced by blood and embarrassment. He was addicted to seeing it- the very moment the bag guys realize that Peter may be small, but that small body packed a punch that wasn't at all predicable.

It was in these moments that Peter truly felt like a superhero, felt like the Avenger that Mr. Stark wanted him to be, like the bar that Iron Man set was a tangible, reachable object that Spider-Man could almost brush with his fingertips. The 16-year-old Peter Parker was nothing but a blurry face in the crowd. Without the suit, he was susceptible to the name-calling, to the bullies, to the school projects that threatened to break him down and belittle him. But as Spider-Man... he felt _-_

_**BOOOM-CRRRAASHH!** _

A sudden _thunderous_ crash rocked the tiny establishment. Both hero and bad guy stumbled sideways, heads turning to the burst of glass and rubble coming from the storefront. He felt a mini earthquake vibrate the floor under his feet, like a car had just been rammed into the building.

Maybe that's what had happened? Peter didn't know. The place was still a mess of green and black. What little light there was, was catching on the dust and debris, turning the whole scene into a canned goods swampland.

The screeching wail of a security alarm rang out next door.

Dammit. If the thing was set up correctly, he'd have five minutes to get these guys in line and beat it before the police showed up.

Over by the registers, Johnny and Weatherman were screaming bloody murder. It made Peter's stomach drop. What were they afraid of? He couldn't see! Without thinking, he lowered his arm and let the bat slip out of his fingers.

 _Big_ mistake.

The weapon hadn't even hit the floor before it ended up connecting with Peter's side. The metal handle slammed into his ribs, taking his breath away and turning the tables faster than the teen could react.

" _ARGH_!"  He yelped. Dammit dammit _dammit_! That hurt! It was the surprise that shook him the most. His brain was being pulled into three directions: The crash, Weatherman, and now Bat-man. He felt his nerves spike, felt himself getting hotter, felt anxiety clouding his judgment. This was a far-cry from the invincible hero he’d been feeling like only seconds before. Peter tried to tell himself to shake it off and breathe, but Bat-man was already up in his space.

Through Spider-Man's eyes, all Peter saw was an outline of green: a square face, angry expression, dark blood running from one nostril. He'd only managed to get in one good punch to the oaf's jaw before Bat-man had him around the throat.

"Got you, freak.”

" _UGH- Hrrk!"_ One meaty hand encircled his whole neck and squeezed. The edges of the mask cut into the flesh under his jaw, ripping away from the body-suit and exposing the pale skin underneath.

" _Le- Goghh_!" Just as Peter's body began to panic, a horrifying faraway sound cut through the edges of his painful turmoil.

It was LOUD, whatever it was. A deep and dark roar of a _beast_. It rattled his bones and shook the floor under his feet. Bat-man's fingers immediately let Peter go and the teen crumbled. He saw his attacker flounder for a bit. The thief looked every which way before deciding to run off into the darker depths of the store, leaving his two comrades behind.

Crap. That can’t be good.

"What the hell was that, Karen?" Peter croaked. The AI didn't answer. " _Karen?_ "

  **"Mmm.. Sssmells like** **a** _**feast**_. **"**

A menacing voice had Peter's head snapping up. Something was very wrong here and it wasn't just the thieves.

" **They’re** _**mine**_." It continued. **"Stop.** _ **Enough**_ **of your nagging** _ **.**_ **I'll be quick."**

His spidey-senses were going nuts, poking and prodding in the back of his mind. _'Danger! Danger!'_ they cried.

In the dissipating smoke, Johnny and Weatherman's silhouettes were huddled together, dwarfed by a much LARGER silhouette. That's when Peter saw it, unmistakable even under the poor lighting: A dark oddly-shaped creature, a humanoid snake with arms and legs! 

 _A _monster__.

"H-Holy crap!” If Captain Obvious had still been there, he would have pissed himself twice. The monster, 8 feet tall and wider than Aunt May's refrigerator, was standing on a pile of rubble. The large muscularbody was bent over, hovering it's head above Johnny and Weatherman like a bear ready to devour them whole.

Peter stumbled to his feet and adjusted his mask. "Karen?” He tried again, but she still didn't answer. This had never happened before, the AI had never just stopped working. Something must’ve been broken when Bat-man grabbed him around the neck. Another thing he'll have to complain about to his mentor. For fucks sake! Nothing was going right today!

This was insanity. He didn't know what to do!  Should he jump in or stay back? The creature really did look like a snake that had swallowed a human body... a really _jacked_ human body. _MAN_ did that thing have muscles! Definitely not friendly. Its pupil-less demonic eyes were also hard to miss. They were large blobs of white on the front of its head, two oddly shaped pools that were meticulously studying the two thieves shaking and crying at its feet.

Johnny and Weatherman screamed again, rough and flemy- a desperate cry for help.

 **"Heads** , **livers** , **lungs**...” the creature growled. “ **Petty thieves- Couple of** _ **snacks**_ **."**

It had happened in a instant, too fast for Peter to even think about stopping it. One moment the creature's head was reeling back, the next Mr. Weatherman and Johnny didn't have a heads. Peter couldn't contain his howl of terror. The thing’s mouth was literally full of teeth! It was a bush of thorns, if someone replaced the thorns with _needles_. He'd never seen anything like it!

The two thieves' bodies fell to the floor like a sack of gory potatoes. The thump it made was drowned out by Peter's shout echoing through the grocery. It startled the monster, who whipped around to eye the spider-suit with cautious interest. Peter gasped and staggered backwards when two white eyes met his.

"Karen," he whimpered, backing right into the end of a shelf.

The murderous creature let out a gravelly snort and started towards him, gait fearless and fast. It took three seconds for it to be towering over him. Slimy, oily, skin stretching over bulging muscles had him backed into a shelf with nowhere to go. 

Peter couldn't remember ever feeling this vulnerable. Its face alone reminded him of crocodile about to eat its own baby. The sides of its mouth were curled up to the corners of its eyes, bloody teeth clicking as they shifted into the cheshire grin. When it raised its enormous arm, the hero flinched.

Oh god. He couldn’t believe this was how he was going to die! After everything, Spider-Man was snake food! Too terrified to move an inch, too terrified to fight back! No Karen, no Aunt May, no showdown that saves the world-

“ _AHHHH_!”

The creature's arm shot out and Peter was sure he was dead. It took him a full five seconds to realize the creature hadn’t touched him at all.

“ **Mmm**.” The teen's eyes widened. Snake-Monster's deadly claws were digging around on the shelf above his head. A large wet tongue slivered out of its mouth, wagging like a delighted dog’s tail. Peter didn’t know what to do! He stood waiting, holding his breath while it rummaged and finally latched onto something it liked. The monster pulled whatever it was down and stepped back, holding the crinkling package to its chest.

It was a single bag of Doritos, cool ranch.

 **"You are as puny in person as you are on TV."**  The monster huffed, tilting its head and flashing it's bloody teeth. **" _Insect._ " **

Peter gulped, looking from the Doritos back to the creature's smiling face. The snake-monster knew who he was? He didn't know monsters could watch TV. How did they pay for cable?

The creature's smile dropped away and it turned, bringing attention to the red and blue lights flashing outside. 

“The police are here.” He didn’t know why he said it, but the words fell out of his mouth anyway.

Without a glance more in Peter's direction the creature snarled and plowed towards the exit. It bounded and leapt into the air, tearing into the squealing cars before leaping out of sight, Doritos bag still in hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple days late, but this beast is still kickin! Thank you to all who commented and/or left kudos!


	5. 3 AM

The mask was the first thing to come off.

Peter was suffocating, now pacing his warm cozy bedroom, breathing in air that wouldn’t satisfy. He couldn’t breathe. It was worse than the red-bearded man’s hands around his neck, squeezing, choking, he felt dizzy.

He coughed and quickly swallowed at the thick lump creeping up his throat. His fists had balled up the red Spider-Man mask. It was useless now anyway, silent and unresponsive even after being hurled into the metal frame of his bed.

He didn’t blame the suit for what had happened tonight. To rely on technology to save him, to rely on Karen or Mr. Stark was a foolish thing to do. _Stupid_. He knew better than that. Hadn’t Mr. Stark already taught him that exact lesson? After Peter had completely botched that “heroic” moment on the ferry, after he had the suit ripped from him, after Mr. Stark had ceased all contact during the reign of the Vulture... 

Peter promised himself that he would focus more on honing Spider-Man’s natural defenses. Sitting up on the drafty rooftop overlooking the city, watching the debris from the plane burn, the hero swore he would become less dependent on others and more dependent on himself for guidance and strength. 

That had, of course, all gone to shit when Mr. Stark had given him the suit back. The teen took it and wore it again with pride. Leaning on his AI for everything had become the norm during his nightly scouts as the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. 99% of the time, that was perfectly fine... but what happened when the leftover 1% reared its ugly head (and sharp teeth)? 

Peter had found that out tonight. 

The monster from Aunt May’s favorite grocery had been a twist he’d definitely not been expecting. In a dark _dark_ room full of villains and blood thirsty creatures, Spider-Man froze. Like a kitten in the middle of a highway, the teen found that he was too terrified to move. His mind shut down. In that moment, there had been no right way to move, nothing but those glaring white eyes and a mouth full of sharp hungry teeth.

Peter coughed and turned to the full-body mirror leaning beside his nightstand. White as a sheet and sweating like he’d just run a marathon, he stared into his own round terrified eyes and tried to control himself.

“Breathe... _breathe_ “

When he blinked he could still see it. He saw the monster in the grocery store, a dark terrifying nightmare swinging his head down and tearing two human beings apart. Two grown men who were alive, talking, laughing, and breathing were now nothing but a couple of gruesome corpses bleeding out onto the sticky muddy linoleum.

It was all too much. The dark dripping substance oozing from the creature’s teeth, the cheshire smile, the teen’s moment of panic when he thought the monster was about to kill him too.

“Ugh! God. _Shit_.” He couldn’t stop shaking. The room was too cold, it was too hot, it was spinning! He lifted his hands and ran them down his face, hoping the feeling of his own hands would snap him out of it, but the panic kept pressing.

For the first time since Peter had started his nights out as Spider-Man, the teenager wanted to wake up his aunt and cling to her. He didn’t know what he should do. A small part of him knew he should  call Mr. Stark immediately, but it was two in the morning! Would his mentor be angry at being woken up? Would he laugh and tell Peter that he was imagining things or that he was being a baby for crying over a few dead thugs? 

No. No, he couldn't talk to Mr. Stark right now. He was too much of a mess. If Iron Man heard the way his breath trembled or the way his voice quaked while he revisited the nights disturbing events, Mr. Stark would think Peter wasn't worthy of being a superhero anymore.

No, he needed to calm down, to try and put it out of mind and sleep on it. Easier said than done, he was sure, but he had to try. There was a man-eating monster on the streets of New York, if Peter wanted to be a part of the hunt, he was going to have to swallow his fear and be brave.

The clock over his bedroom door read 2:45am. Four hours and fifteen minutes until Happy Hogan would be awake to checking his phone.  

_Hey, Happy. It's Peter. Peter Parker. Something bad happened last night and the Spidey-Suit is malfunctioning big-time. Can you please ask Mr. Stark to call me?_

Peter read it over eighty times in his head before hitting Send.

The clock over his door read 3am.

Four hours of laying awake in the dark until Happy Hogan checked his phone, until Aunt May's alarm went off and she got up to start breakfast, until the sun started to rise over the horizon and end this piece of shit day.

...

* * *

 

...

"What the hell happened to _WE_ , man?"

Eddie was too impatient and frustrated to wait for the elevator. His heavy footfalls echoed up the entire stairway until he'd finally made it to his apartment's floor.

"I told you," The human hissed, jamming his key into the lock with a enough force to almost break it in two. "We only bite the heads off of very very _VERY_ bad people. You already bit the head off a guy trying to beat a dog, you did NOT need to eat those guys too."

He didn't bother turning on the kitchen lights when he stepped through the door, choosing instead to make his way straight to the bedroom. No late night tater-tots for _this_ symbiote. If Venom thought he was going to reward bad behavior, he had another thing comin'.

 **"Bad behavior?"** Venom had the nerve to sound offended. **"Those humans will not be missed. Your anger is _stupid_. It is _Venom_ who should be angry."**

"Is that so..." Eddie was livid. The grocery store had been Venom's bright idea. He'd yelled for Venom to stop, even pleaded. The alien refused to listen. Only after they'd come face to face with Spider-Man and pissed off a few members of the NYPD did his short-tempered symbiote finally decide to retreat. Eddie had felt Venom's confusion when the famous superhero made an appearance. It was the first time either of them had run into Spider-Man or ANY superhero for that matter. They had never been on the Avengers' shit-list. The killings flew under the radar, witnesses were never believed, and Eddie intended to keep it that way. Angering a well known pal of Iron Man was NOT keeping a low profile.

**"The Spider was on _our_ side of the city. We should have made an example out of him, ripped his limbs off one by one, but you insisted we let him go. _Weak_." **

"We're not making an example out of anyone! And this isn't _our_ side of the city." As Eddie raised his voice, he could feel Venom's anger growing. The alien moved around inside him like a river of vexation, slipping from one side of his chest another, pacing like an old angry grandmother who's mail was delivered late. "Fact check: We don't have any piece of this city! We're not headline news, buddy, we're a ghost story! Now Spider-Man is probably gonna make sure all his super-friends know we exist."

**"What are _super-friends_?"**

"We ate the heads off two dudes right in front of him! Now he'll probably thinks _we're_ the bad guy. He's gonna come after us!"

**"Then we'll eat him too."**

Infuriated, Eddie stormed into his bathroom and flicked the light on. There in the mirror, he saw Venom. The creature was gnashing his teeth, clicking and drooling, looking as pissed off as Eddie felt.

"See? This is exactly the type of _crap_ I was afraid of. You're getting angry and bulldozing ahead without thinking."

**"When we are threatened, we will protect us. When there is no time for thinking, _Venom_ will choose what is right and wrong."**

"Ah sure. And what am I supposed to do? Sit back and watch you- _AGH!"_

Eddie's back hit bathroom the wall, limbs held tight by the invisible force that was his symbiote. His insides worked against him, pressing into the drywall. It was only enough pressure to hold him there, but it was still startling. He could see himself in the mirror across from him. Just passed Venom's eyes were a pair of his own, wide and fearful as he struggled against Venom's control.

 **" _You_?" **The voice in his head was low and menacing, gravelly and unyielding. **"You're still seeing us as a separate entity, Eddie. _We_ will do whatever it takes to save _us_. If Spider-Man is the enemy, then he will be destroyed." **

" _Bullshit_. He's a hero. If we attack him, what does that make us?"

Despite knowing the alien would never deliberately hurt him, Eddie couldn't help the panicked feeling racing through his nerves. The loss of control reminded him of the first time they'd met. Not particularly _good_ memories. He'd _truly_ been afraid back then, sweating and shaking and unable to take a full breath of air. That version of himself had looked in the bathroom mirror, much like was doing now, and saw something that terrified him enough to darken his senses and throw him into unconsciousness. He'd woken up hours later sprawled across an empty bathtub, with a broken shower curtain hanging above his head and a headache so horrible it made everything from his head to his toes ache.

He suspected it was the unpleasantness of the memory that made Venom relinquish his control. He felt the muscles in his body relax, the symbiote melting away as if he'd taken a physical step back.

 **"... We're sorry, Eddie."** was said in a much smaller tone, deflated and clipped like a child who'd just been reprimanded on a playground.  

Venom wasn't normally like this. The last time Eddie had been held against a wall was just after Venom had returned to him. They had to get readjusted those first few weeks and interacting with the grumpy symbiote was like walking on egg shells. The arguments the two had led to their current agreed upon boundaries. Throwing Eddie against walls, or manhandling Eddie in general when they were out of harm's way, was definitely not sticking to their boundaries.

He didn't need to say it. Venom knew.

"You gotta meet me halfway here, buddy." The human panted. Venom was moving around inside him, restless and guilty and probably trying to ignore what he was saying. "I let you do your thing out there, but when I say stop, we stop. I've told you that I trust you. You've gotta trust me too."

**"You say Spider-Man is a threat to us, but we can't touch him. How can we continue to be _good_ if the _good_ is trying to kill us?" **

"We stay away from him, number one. Number two, when Spider-Man is around, we don't kill anyone."

Venom was silent for the rest of the night. Eddie could feel the second-hand brooding, moving about in circles and huffing and puffing just to remind the human he was there and not happy. His moping at least gave Eddie some time to settle down before going to bed.

Let him mope. Spider-Man was off-limits and Eddie would stand by that demand. Even if Venom didn't quite understand his reasons why, keeping away from Spider-Man would protect them both.

"Night, Vee." was his last peace offering before bed.

He didn't really expect the symbiote to answer, the thing's brooding level was at a legendary high, but when Venom made no sort of motion at all to acknowledge his human, he'll admit, it kind of hurt. Eddie shook his head and pushed that thought away, closing his eyes and letting sleep blanket his senses. He was on the right side of the argument and he wouldn't be losing sleep over Venom's childish anger. If he wanted to ignore him for the next week and a half, fine. He'd take an angry Venom over a dead one.

...

The digital clock on the nightstand read 3am when his symbiote finally decided to speak... of course Eddie didn't hear it, softly snoring as he was, face down in his pillow fast asleep. A black mass formed above the human's slumbering body, eyes narrow and sharp teeth clicking with determination as it stared down at its friend and host. 

 **"Naive fool. _Venom_ will protect Eddie"** It hissed. **"...From Spider-Man and anyone else to who thinks they can destroy us."**

 


End file.
